


All the Smiles That Are Ever Gonna Haunt Me

by Moonfisher



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Humor, But it'll be fun I promise, College, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Ghost Sex, Haunted Houses, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mediums, Murder Mystery, Paranormal, Possession, Psychic Abilities, Rituals, Spirits, Unhealthy Food, at least at first, ghost!gerard - Freeform, medium!Frank, medium!Patrick, psychic!Frank, psychic!Patrick, yeah so that's a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9469796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonfisher/pseuds/Moonfisher
Summary: A house that's this nice, in such a good neighborhood, and less than half the price of any houses near it? It had to be too good to be true.All Frank Iero wanted was some space from his family and freedom to do what he wanted. When he transfers to Belleville University, and finds a perfect house that he can live in all to himself, it seems like things might finally be looking up for him. Of course, he should know by know that life tends to have other plans for him than what he wants. In this case, plans involving a gift he didn't even know he had, murders, and a strange boy named Gerard that nobody else can see.





	1. Blessed by the Gods of Real Estate

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm a sucker for ghost AUs, and just supernatural AUs in general, so I thought I'd share an idea that's been simmering in my brain for a while now. Be ready for a mess of ghosts, caffeine, plenty of screaming, unexpected dips in a river, psychics, demon summoning, and instant ramen. This is college, after all.

“And over here, you’ll see, is the house’s original fireplace, perfectly preserved since the day the it was built,”

The real estate agent with the tousled blonde hair, purple heels, and ridiculously heavy makeup (what was her name… Harriet?) was obviously trying her best to win Frank over, her strained smile showing him that she had failed many times, but was not willing to give up finding a buyer. Frank had stopped paying attention to her long-winded pitch a long time ago, though. He didn’t need to pay attention. He was already sold.

Most of the people who would be interested in a house like this (suburban, middle class families with kids, probably), would consider it average, at best. The floors creaked with every step you took, the kitchen looked like it hadn’t been updated in years, and there wasn’t really a backyard, the back doors just sort of lead out into the woods behind the house.

Of course, for someone like Frank, a lone transferring college student with barely enough money scraped together from several years of working shitty job after shitty job, the house was an absolute, God-given, motherfucking miracle. Two stories, with no rats or pests, and, yes, a backyard that lead into a fucking forest (complete with a goddamn _river_ )? It was the most incredible thing in the world. Of course, the best thing of all about the house was the price. By some insanity, the house was more than half the price of any other place in the neighborhood. A house as good as this, in a college town like Belleville, for such a low price? Frank thought it was almost too good to be true. Yet here it was, standing in all its glory.

As they walked back to the front of the house, to conclude the tour, Miss Strained-Smile Harriet stopped so suddenly that Frank almost slammed into her. She turned around, and the look on her face immediately made Frank’s spirits sink.

“There is, of course, one other thing that I have to inform you of, before you consider this house as one of your options,” She looked resigned, like she wished she didn’t have to inform Frank about whatever-it-was.

This was it then. The catch, the reason why such a great house was up for so cheap. What, was it built on a sinkhole or something?

“One of the previous occupants of this house was… killed here,” She said.

Frank widened his eyes. That was definitely something, but why would it warrant the insanely low price? Part of him figured it was probably just some old guy that had a heart attack or something, but the real estate agent’s face looked way too grave for that.

“What do you mean by killed? How… how did-“

She cut Frank of before he could finish, “He was murdered in this house, the killers were never found. He was only nineteen,”

“…Oh,”

Well, that explained it.

The website said that the house had been on and off the market around two years, it seemed like nobody really stayed for more than a couple months. No wonder Harriet looked so strained. Before Frank could get a good look at her though, she lifted her posture and her face morphed into a well-practiced mask.

“All of the occupants since then have stated that they didn’t see the house as the right permanent residence for them, an ended up leaving. Of course, it’s been completely empty for several months now,”

Frank chuckled to himself as he leaned against the doorway. _“Right permanent residence” my ass,_ he thought, _they probably just fucking freaked at the idea of sleeping in the same place where some kid ended up kickstarting the episode to one of those crime shows._

“Of course, I urge you to not remove this from your list of potential residences. I can assure you that all evidence points to the killers having fled the town after the incident. The police are on your side no matter what, anyway,”

Frank but his lip, and shifted positions slightly. Yeah, the idea of living in a murder house was defiantly pretty creepy, but it had already been five years since then anyway, and it wasn’t like the house still wasn’t the best thing he could hope for.

He straightened up, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind his ears, “Actually, I think I’ve already decided. I’m definitely interested, I’ll… I’ll make an offer,”

With the look that spread onto Harriet’s face, you’d think that Frank had just given her a winning lottery ticket.

“Well, in that case then, I’ll just need you to pop on by to the office tomorrow to get some paperwork done,”

She looked about ready to walk out the door when she noticed that Frank hadn’t made any motion to leave, he simply nodded, absentmindedly gazing around the house.

“You aren’t really the sort of person we usually get looking around in this neighborhood,” She told him, “Are you a student?”

She looked down at Frank (in the heels she was more than half a foot taller than him… it was sad) in a way that made him supremely self-conscious of his hair and his tattoos as well as his height. He knew it was ridiculous (he was being intimidated by a real estate agent, for God’s sake), but Frank still wasn’t used to having the freedom to wear what he wanted or do what he pleased.

“Ah… yeah! I’m transferring in this year. Music major,” He told her, trying to stand up a little taller.

She gave him a knowing smile, “I see. Is that why you aren’t staying in the dorms then? My son always drives his roommates insane with the music he plays… anyway, I ought to get going, it’s getting late. Do you want to take one more look before I close up the house?”

Frank nodded; mind already wandering as he climbed up the noisy stairs; thinking about the real reason why a nineteen year old would want such a big empty house.

All his life, Frank felt like he was being suffocated by everyone around him. His mom, who always acted like he was a problem to be fixed and was dead set on molding him into her “perfect son”. His dad, who was the one to enforce his mom’s plans for him (and when he said enforce, he meant enforce). His entire fucking neighborhood honestly felt like it was trying to press itself in on him, and if he didn’t mold well, they acted like he was the shit at the bottom of somebody’s shoe.

That wasn’t even mentioning his senile-ass grandpa, who’d always been weirdly obsessed with Frank, going on about how he shared “the Family Gift”, whatever the hell that meant. Thank God for nursing homes.

Frank reached the upstairs landing and paused for a moment. It almost felt like there was a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before, but he shrugged it off. Probably just a window someone left open, he thought.  
The chill seemed like it was emanating from the nearest of the upstairs bedrooms, so he stepped in to check it out. It definitely felt several degrees colder here than in the rest of the house, but all the windows were closed shut. Actually, it didn’t seem like they’d been open for a long time, judging by how stuck they felt.

Maybe it was just a weird draft, but that would suck, since this was definitely Frank’s favorite room in the house. It wasn’t necessarily as big as the other bedrooms, but it had two huge windows that looked down on the front of the house, this weird sloped ceiling that Frank thought was awesome, and if he looked closely at the walls, he could see tons of weird doodles that looked like they had been carved into the walls. Whoever made them was definitely talented, even if they mostly drew comic book characters.

Frank turned around on the spot, imagining where he would put all his stuff when he actually moved in. Desk here, bed there, posters… hmm. He was pretty good at this; maybe he could start his own version of those remodeling shows his parents were so obsessed with. He doubted he would be very appealing to the middle-aged housewife demographic, though.

As he was trying to figure out where he would put his shelf, Frank noticed a particularly good drawing and knelt down to examine it. It looked like a little skeleton in a marching band uniform, clutching a baton. It was a little macabre, but way more detailed than the others, and Frank just personally thought it was awesome.

He was running his hands over the carving when he heard what sounded like footsteps coming into the room. It was probably Harriet, coming to tell him to get out of there, but- (he glanced out the window, double-checking) that wasn’t right, she was loading all her signs and balloons in the car. His brain was telling him that it was his imagination, that it was probably just the old house creaking, but for some reason, Frank’s heart couldn’t help but start pounding and his blood ran cold for some reason. Maybe, he noticed with a start, it was that he swore he saw a shadow in the corner of his eye, flickering in and out, but staring straight at him. He could have sworn, at least, but the shadow vanished as soon as Frank turned his head.

He stood up, frowning, and then shook his head like he was trying to dispel water from his ears. He really ought to get more sleep, if he was seeing things like that.

Frank took in the house one last time as he walked down the stairs and to the door, once again admiring how lucky he was, despite the fact that he would be moving into a murder house. Finally having some space from his family and freedom to do what he wanted was something he had been dreaming about for years. Finally, he’d be able to live his life on his own terms.

As Frank turned the handle of the front door, he was struck again by the feeling that someone was watching him. He shook it off though, vowing to take a nap at the quickest possible opportunity. He relied on coffee too much.

_As he stepped out into the afternoon sun, he couldn't help but wonder what room the kid died in._


	2. Frank Gets Hit in the Head With a Guitar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter won't take as long as this one, I'll probably post every 3-4 days for this story. Chapters will probably get longer too, that's just the way I write.
> 
> No Gee in this chapter (he'll get a proper intro soon, I promise), but Frank may or may not have made a new friend in this one...

Frank was pretty surprised with how nervous he was. In his hometown, he’d gotten something of a reputation as that rebellious kid kid who didn’t take shit from anyone. He’d never really made that many friends, but he didn’t really care. Frank didn’t have much of an interest in being chums with all the stuffy, arrogant assholes that didn’t care about anything but sports, partying and picking up girls (the last of which he had absolutely _no_ interest in… but he’d never told anyone about that). Much to the chagrin of his parents, he’d never cared enough about fitting in to try and pretend to be someone he wasn’t. It wasn’t like he’d had anyone to impress.

This was different though. For the first time, he felt like he _really_ was free to do what he wanted, and well… Frank wanted people to like him. The logical part of his brain told him to just do what he always did, show up in a sort of _this is me, take it or leave it_ way, but that didn’t change the fact that another part of his brain kept whispering that people would think he was weird, or that he’d be an outcast his whole life. The voice sounded weirdly like his mother.

“Shut the fuck up,” He told it. It was going to be a good day. The beginning of a new start. 

Thanks to that, Frank was sitting out on the splintery, wooden porch at seven in the morning, buzzed on coffee, after finally getting enough motivation to get dressed and eat breakfast. His fist class (History of Modern American Music) was in half an hour, which sucked, since he was _not_ a morning person, but the class wasn’t available in any other time slot.

Frank couldn’t stand waiting in the house any longer, though. Even though it was everything he wanted, staying there was weirdly unnerving. Part of it made sense. He’d only bough the house a couple days ago, and this was the first time he’d lived somewhere totally by himself, so it made sense that he still wasn’t used to it. The house was also pretty empty, since he’d left in a hurry. Luckily a friend of his was driving up in a couple days with everything else, but the emptiness made the house feel way bigger then it was.

That wasn’t it though. There was just something… Frank couldn’t really explain it. He was probably just paranoid, but he kept hearing these weird creaking noises, like footsteps, coming from empty rooms, seeing shadows just out of the corner of his eyes, and he couldn’t shake the creepy feeling that someone was watching him. Frank couldn’t help but be reminded of his grandpa, who spent his days talking to imaginary people, but it was probably just nerves, and the history of his house letting his imagination run wild.

Frank sighed, staring out at the rest of the neighborhood. Everything was pretty quiet and still, save for the families who would brave the cold air and rush into their card every so often, probably taking their kids to school.

Right, school. According to Google, it was only a ten minute walk to his first classroom, but he had no idea where the fuck he was going, so he probably ought to get going. He stepped inside, left his coffee mug in the kitchen, grabbed the crumpled Google Maps directions, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and headed out.

…

“Fuck you, Google,”

 Frank squinted at the map he’d printed out again. According to that, he should be a block away from the lecture hall, which was on Franklin Drive, but as far as Frank could see, he was the a dead end of a road of dorms and cafes. It was beautiful, but that didn’t really change the fact that he had absolutely no fucking idea where he was, and approximately eight minutes until class started.

He squinted, looking wildly around for a street sign that would point him in the right direction. Frank was honestly starting to panic now.

Seven minutes.

Thank god, Frank was able to locate a street sign that pointed him… right into a road that was closed off and being used as a construction site. 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,”

Six minutes. 

Frank jogged over to the construction site, frantically looking for _some_ kind of alternative route. This was ridiculous; he could _see_ the classroom up ahead. He had half a mind to just run through the construction, but it probably wasn’t the best idea to show up to class covered in wet cement.

Five Minutes.

He’d have to go around somehow. Frank walked up and down, looking for something, anything, when he finally noticed a small alley that seemed to lead to the other side.

Frank started running.

Four Minutes.

His hunch was right, thank god. He was able to dash through the alley and get out on the other side of the construction, although he stepped onto several people’s garbage in the process (who the fuck leaves moly pizza lying in the road?). 

Three Minutes.

He turned out onto the sidewalk, lined with trees and various other brick buildings. Frank was seriously out of breath (he’d never exactly been the “athletic type”), but he didn’t dare slow down.

Two Minutes.

He was almost there, everything was fine, it was going to be fine. He dodged the groups of other students on their way to class, although they obviously weren’t as late as him. He’d be fine though; all he had to do was run a couple more paces, dash up the stairs, and hurry to find a seat. It was all good, Frank was almost there.

He was so focused on keeping up the pace and reassuring himself that he didn’t notice the sound of frantic, running footsteps and labored breathing that was coming up right behind him.

One Minute.

Frank would have made it if something hadn’t slammed into his head (for some reason, accompanied by a loud _TWANG_ sound); knocking him over and leaving him sprawled on the sidewalk.

_God,_ that hurt. He was dimly aware of someone standing over him with a concerned look in their eyes.

“Oh my god! Holy shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m really sorry…”

Frank squinted, trying to get the sun out of his eyes. Snakingly, he tried to pull himself up, but ended up falling down again. He could feel the sting of scrapes formed by his encounter with the concrete, and a lump beginning to form on the back of his head. 

“Oh god- here, let me help you up,” The voice said again, and Frank saw the outline of someone reaching their hand out. He took it, and was pulled up into a standing position.

He blinked dazedly, trying to get bearings on what the _fuck_ had just happened.

Frank noticed someone standing in front of him, looking extremely apologetic. It looked like he was around his age, although this guy was almost a foot taller than him. And god, his _hair_ … it was all curled up in this ridiculous afro that probably gave him an extra couple of inches in the height department. 

Hair Boy bit his lip and glanced towards the entrance to the lecture hall, like he was deciding whether or not to run inside.

 “Look, I’m… I’m really sorry. It’s just that… I was late to class, see, and I started running, and I wasn’t looking where I was going, and, well…”

 He gestured to a guitar case lying in the grass a couple feet away from them.

So this was the asshole that ran into Frank. And hit him with his _guitar_ , no less. Well, that at least explained why it hurt like hell (and the noise).

“It’s… it’s fine,” Frank said, although he could tell that Hair Boy didn’t believe him. Why did he have to just stand there and act so concerned? Didn’t he have somewhere to go? The guy just hanging around looking guilty made this whole thing way more awkward than it already was. 

“Are… are you sure you’re okay? I feel really bad,”

 Frank rolled his eyes, “Yeah, dude, it was an accident. Ho hard feelings. I’ll be fine,”

 Frank’s grimace and scowl may have betrayed the fact that he was more than a little pissed off at the guy who knocked him over, but he tried not to show it. Better to just do what it took to make the guy go away.

 “Well… you’re sure you’ll be fine? Is there anything I can do?” He asked.

 “I can take care of myself, thanks. You should just get along with whatever you were doing before,” That came out a little snippier then he intended it to be, but after a pause, Hair Boy slowly nodded, picked up his guitar case, and walked off.

Frank knelt down again to pick up his backpack and his papers, ignoring the other people on the sidewalk that were pushing past him, muttering things under their breath. God did that bring back memories from High School.

 Frank stumbled into the building, blinking his eyes dazedly at the change in light. The place Frank’s class was supposed to be, Hall 32, was right by the entrance, next to an old-fashioned reception desk with piles upon piles of paper. Frank ended up deciding to make a detour though, turning right instead, and going into the bathroom to check out how badly he had gotten scraped up. He was also a little nervous and apprehensive of barging into the class after it had already started, but that was stupid, he knew, so he pushed the thought away.

Anyway, he was already late, so who cared if he missed a couple more minutes.

 Frank examined himself in one of the small mirrors. Luckily, he didn’t look as shitty as he felt. Letting out a sigh, he splashed some water on his face and tried to rub some of the dirt off his nose. So much for having a perfect new start. Leave it to Frank to get his day ruined before it had even gotten started, by a _guitar._ He couldn’t stand here and moan forever, though.

Frank turned around and walked out of the bathroom. He walked straight across the hall, and before his brain could convince him otherwise, opened the door to the lecture hall. It closed behind him with a loud _CLANG_.

 The room was easily holding around a hundred students, all sitting facing a short man with dark, floppy hair and the world’s stupidest tortoiseshell glasses, who was gesturing to a PowerPoint being projected behind him.

 The man paused his explanation and gave Frank a pointed stare.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He asked. Most of the class had turned to look.

 Frank’s cheeks burned, and he shook his head. This was just like high school, but the embarrassment was multiplied to a ridiculous number. Just Perfect. He kept his head down and maneuvered to the back of the hall, looking for an empty seat.

The room was almost completely filled with people, it was hard to maneuver, Frank kept stepping on people’s feet. Hopefully they wouldn’t peg him as that asshole punk that was late on the first day.

He found his lucky break at the far side of the room. It was pretty much the absolute furthest distance away from the door possible, but Frank wasn’t complaining. At least he got the _one_ seat that was left. Sitting next to…

 Oh _fuck._

Hair Boy. With his guitar all laid out in front of him, too. He gave Frank an amused look.

Frank went to sit down, staring straight ahead, and attempting to focus on what the professor was saying (failing miserably). The guy was talking in a monotone and barely moving from where he was standing. Wasn’t college supposed to have more _interesting_ teachers?

"Yeah, Professor Cameron really doesn’t get more interesting than this. I had him last semester… it was terrible,”

 Turns out, Hair Boy actually seemed like a pretty decent guy. He offered Frank his notes from the beginning of the class, and kept a steady steam of snarky comments going the entire time. Good taste in music too, going by the Misfits shirt he was wearing.

At the end of the lecture, he stood, up, and turned to face Frank.

“You know… I still feel pretty bad about what happened earlier, are you sure there isn’t something I can do to make up for it?”

Frank shook his head, even though his head twinged a little in protest. He wasn’t really bothered.

 “Relax, it’s fine. Honestly it’s not a big deal; I probably would’ve done the same thing. Besides, anyone who plays guitar and with taste in music like that has to be a good guy,”

 Hair Boy grinned and slowly nodded.

“Are you a transfer here? I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name, anyway?”

 “Yeah, I came here for the music program,” He said, starting to feel more friendly and confident. It had been a while since he’d met a genuinely nice person like that, it didn’t really happen in his old town. “My name’s Frank,”

 “Cool, I’m Ray,”

Ray seemed to notice someone or something a couple rows ahead of them Frank couldn’t really tell what he was looking at, it was too chaotic with everyone getting up and making their way to the door.

Ray state making his way down the rows of desks, and he beckoned for Frank to follow.

 “Come on! There’s some people I want to introduce you to,”

Frank’s day sure as hell didn’t begin the way he expected. It seemed like he’d be okay with that, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't shitty… it's past midnight and I'really tired
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**Author's Note:**

> (yeah I know I made belleville university up okay fight me)


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